


fell in love with the fire long ago

by thishazeleyeddemon



Series: hook and eye [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Body Horror, Consensual Possession, M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Witch Adam Milligan, although Adam would gut you for saying such things about Michael, arguably - Freeform, by virtue of being a hook and eye-verse fic, obviously Michael is beautiful and perfect no matter how many eyes, smidgeon of angst. just a spicy dollop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishazeleyeddemon/pseuds/thishazeleyeddemon
Summary: So in awe, there I stood as you licked off the grainThough I've handled the wood, I still worship the flameAs long as amber of ember glowsAll the "would that I'd loved" is long agoAdam tries not to close his eyes when he kisses Michael.
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: hook and eye [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112354
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	fell in love with the fire long ago

**Author's Note:**

> you can read this if you haven't read hook & eye, you'll just get more of it if you have
> 
> i literally wrote this in one go as procrastination shsgjskl

Adam tries not to close his eyes when he kisses Michael.

Michael doesn’t mind if he does, of course, but Adam wants to look. Michael sighs against his mouth, a sound so terribly sweet it’s hard to believe it can come from him, and his eyes flutter as he leans into Adam. He has to tilt his head up to kiss Adam now - which is by his own choice, there’s nothing making him keep his apparition shorter, he’s fairly sure Michael just likes fitting in his arms. 

It’s one of those things Michael does that makes Adam’s chest ache, full of tenderness as raw as a sucking wound. It’s _cute_ , damn him.

So much of Michael is cute, even the stuff Adam’s pretty sure most people would disagree with. Like now, while they’re kissing, Michael’s not focusing as hard on his apparition. He still looks human - mostly - but he shifts under Adam’s fingers, the texture going from a believable approximation of worn fabric to feathers to smooth, dry scales to fur so soft it’s like touching a cloud. Adam digs his fingers into Michael’s shoulders and Michael shivers, the feathers under Adam’s fingers going all poofed out and ruffly. They make his fingers buzz, like he’s touching something electric.

He’s so cute. 

“I can tell that you’re laughing at me,” Michael mutters, pulling back just enough to speak, staying pressed against Adam from torso to thigh. His eyes are very blue, starfire shining from behind the thin facsimile of Adam’s eyes. “It’s rude.”

He doesn’t mean it, so Adam doesn’t feel bad calling up some energy and blowing it in Michael’s face, making him blink. “But you’re cute,” he teases. “I can’t help it!”

Michael huffs, and kisses Adam again, like that will make Adam not notice the way his Grace flutters in Adam’s chest, warm and flickering like a mouthful of sparks. He likes being called cute (by Adam, anyway - he suspects smiting would face anyone else who tried) but he’d never say it, not even now, when they’ve said about everything else anyone could think of to say (and yet, never run out of things to talk about). 

They’re in Adam’s room this time, the bed easier to lie on without the mass of blankets that Adam had nicked from the other rooms. The space heaters are gone too, shoved into a storage closet somewhere in the back of the bunker. Hopefully - _hopefully_ \- they’ll never be needed again. 

They certainly aren’t needed now. Michael is hot, both in the metaphorical sense (claws dig into Adam’s back, the lightning-buzz increases as Michael shifts against him, he sighs soft into Adam’s mouth and Adam w _ants_ -) and the physical; it’s like his veins flow with lava, like a star’s been lodged under his ribcage where his heart is. He doesn’t feel as large as he used to, but he feels just as hot - his apparition singing with energy, like holding a burning coal. 

Or, hah, like touching a stove.

But reminders of that upset Michael and he moves on before Michael can catch that thought, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Michael’s jawline and neck and tugging Michael forward so he’s sitting even more on Adam’s lap. He feels at once like he’s as heavy as a stone pressing Adam down and as immaterial as a dream.

That thought itches, and he digs his fingers in even more without thinking about it. He’d be bruising him if Michael was human. Sometimes Michael lets him bruise him anyway, when Michael’s the one possessing his - their - body. Hickies on Michael come up glowing blue with Grace, like galaxies marking his skin. He’s so, so beautiful and strange, and what he wants to do with his life - with his whole shining, eternal life - is sit on Adam’s lap and let himself be kissed.

Michael blinks at him slowly, shifting against him. He moves strangely, when he’s too distracted to think about it - sinuous and inhuman, in a way that makes the heat under Adam’s skin dig its claws in. “You say that like it’s a burden,” he murmurs. “I like this.” He does - he’s not unused to attention, but not attention like Adam’s. Adam’s so intent, so focused, like Michael’s the only thing in the world, like he’s beautiful, like he _matters_ -

\- Adam bites him, and that thought stutters and breaks as Michael gasps, falling forward as his Grace sings against Adam’s soul. Adam pulls his Grace to himself even as he tightens his grip on Michael. “You should like it,” he informs him, running his hand up the inside of Michael’s thigh as he speaks. “It’s sort of important that you do. I’d have to try harder if you didn’t, keep you like this until we found what you wanted.”

“We can do that anyway,” Michael offers.

Adam laughs and kisses underneath his ear. “I have work I want to do, thank you. My friends are gonna ask questions if I don’t call them because I’m fucking you.”

Michael grimaces, and Adam laughs again. They haven’t figured out exactly how to tell the Canadian Men of Letters about Michael’s return yet. They’ve noticed something, though - Adam’s lost count of the amount of people who’ve asked if he’s been sleeping better, if something happened. They’ve held off on asking for specifics, though - probably wary of ruining whatever’s helped his mood. Adam’s heart feels full when he thinks of them - he can only hope they don’t assume he’s been brainwashed or something, when they finally figure out how to let them know.

“I suppose the idea does have some appeal, though,” Adam says lightly, and lets his brain wander down paths of fantasy. He likes eating but he doesn’t need to, not with Michael back (he’s never letting him go again -). He could spend days in here with Michael, holding him down against the bed with a spell, fingers stroking down his feathers, mouth on his, until Michael couldn’t speak, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe with how good he felt, couldn’t see anyone but Adam.

(And if there’s a darker tint to that thought, edged with old bitterness and longing, well - some things just take a while to fade.)

Michael squirms in his lap, mouth falling open as he watches the images play out behind Adam’s eyes. He’s losing his grip on his apparition a bit - the texture underneath Adam’s fingers shifts and sparks like a live wire, his face shifting into something more of an approximation of a human, like a sketch or a painting. It is surreal and strange and horribly beautiful and Adam can’t help but grind up against him, full of possessiveness and hunger. He’s beautiful and horrible and cute and burning and _his_ and Adam wants to make him _scream_.

“Lie down, _Mikha’il,_ ” Adam says, and the moan Michael makes is sweet like blood and honey. “Let’s see if we can do better than ‘like’.”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Adam "monsterfucker" Milligan: there is nothing wrong with having a weird, shifting, multidimensional body
> 
> comment or I'll be in your house tonight


End file.
